


Thirty-One Candles

by Gin_Juice



Series: picture book [9]
Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Birthday Fluff, Birthday Presents, Dysfunctional Family, Family Bonding, Family Feels, Family Fluff, Gift Exchange, POV Alternating, Secret Santa, except for a birthday
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-29
Updated: 2019-09-29
Packaged: 2020-11-07 14:08:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,027
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20818553
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gin_Juice/pseuds/Gin_Juice
Summary: “I don’t know what to get her.”“An all-expenses-paid trip to the Bahamas."“Klaus. Be serious.”“A diamond tiara.”“Klaus.”“Two diamond tiaras? One for special occasions and one just to wear around the house.”______________________________________It's the Hargreeves' community birthday, and this is going to be the best one any of them have had in a long time. All they have left to do is find everyone's perfect present...





	Thirty-One Candles

**Author's Note:**

> This is part of a series, but you don't have to read previous installments to follow along- Basically, the Apocalypse has been averted, and the kids are trying to be a real family. The boys plus the ghosts of Dave and Ben live at the Academy together, Vanya still has her apartment, and Allison divides her time between L.A. and her siblings. There is a random old man ghost (TM) who hangs around and tries to bully them into being functional adults, without much success.

The Hargreeves siblings did not agree on much, but they were unanimous in their conviction that birthdays sucked a big one.

They’d been okay when they were small. Their father used to give them the day off from studying or training, and he had permitted Mom to serve each of them exactly one ounce of potato chips with their lunch, as per the nutritional guidelines on the back of the bag.

But as they’d gotten older and harder to bewitch with junk food, they had all come to see that, stacked up against the experiences of normal kids, their father locking himself in his office and ignoring them all day did not a happy birthday make.

There were never any gifts, or cake, or outings to fun places. No decorations and no party games, no other children with whom to play them. None of them had ever gotten so much as a card, even one without money inside.

Mom had always doted on them a little more than usual, but they’d all walked away with the lasting impression that their special day wasn’t actually all that special.

For their 31st, though, things were going to be different. They were all together for the first time in forever, and they were even getting pretty good at having civil conversations.

This year _was_ going to be special, and fun, and everything that a birthday should be.

…If only they could come to an agreement on what exactly that was.

Five voted to let the occasion pass without notice. Klaus was hellbent on flinging confetti off the top of a roller coaster at exactly twelve noon. Vanya was playing phone tag with a new student about what time they wanted to schedule their lesson for that day, so she still didn’t know when she’d be available. Allison almost had everyone on board with lunch at the botanical gardens until Diego discovered cutting instruments were strictly prohibited so as to prevent visitors from taking plant trimmings, and Ben just kept saying that whatever everybody else wanted to do was fine with him.

Finally, with less than a week to go before October 1st and no firm plans in place, Dave was brought in to make the decision for them.

“How about pizza and cake?” he suggested. “Can’t go wrong with that.”

“Judas!” gasped Klaus.

“Sorry, sweetheart, but it’s everybody’s day,” he said, giving him a gentle pat on the knee. “I’ll go with you to an amusement park some other time.”

Pizza and cake wasn’t exactly a blow-out, but that was alright. Ben was excited to bake something, the rest of them could get whatever toppings they wanted, everybody won.

The only remaining issue was gifts. It was a bit insulting, having to buy presents for six other people on your own birthday, but luckily, Allison had a solution.

“We can do like, a Secret Santa thing,” she told Luther over the phone. “Once I get to town we can all put our names in a bowl, and then we each draw one person to give a present to.”

It was a fantastic idea, really, the perfect way to ensure nobody got overwhelmed with shopping and everybody got something, and Luther loved it right up until the moment he drew Ben’s name and realized he had no earthly clue what to give a dead person for their birthday.

Ben loved to read, but he already had Klaus making regular trips to the public library to check out books for him.

He’d recently taken up cooking, but the kitchen was fully-stocked with every cookbook and gadget a person could ever want.

He could take his clothing _off_ if he felt like it, but he couldn’t put anything else on in its place—it just phased right through him.

Maybe… maybe a watch? Could Ben wear a watch? He hadn’t died wearing one, so maybe whatever rules that prevented him from changing his outfit wouldn’t apply?

Luther rested his chin in his hand and sighed down at his tea cup.

Ghost physics were confusing.

Why couldn’t he have gotten somebody easy? Allison liked jewelry. Diego liked knives. Klaus liked those trashy paranormal romance novels he kept finding wedged between the couch cushions, even though they’d be embarrassing to go out and buy.

He gave his tea a stir and watched it tidal around in the cup.

The root of the problem, he determined, was that Ben had never asked for much, even while he was alive. He’d always been the kid who would split his dessert with whoever was eyeing it up, and who never got upset when one of them declared his turn with a favorite toy was over before it really was.

Ben just… liked everyone around him to be happy.

He could probably get him any dopey little thing and as long as they were all having a good time, he’d be content. But that felt like a cop-out. Weren’t you _supposed_ to be a little bit selfish on your birthday?

Luther closed his eyes and tried to imagine Ben, but with Klaus’s personality. Ben-the-diva didn’t care about being unreasonable, or inconveniencing anyone around him, he just wanted what he wanted. But what was it that he wanted?

Think. Think think think. _Think._

His eyes snapped open.

Got it.

{}{}{}{}{}

Ben banged his head against the wall behind Klaus’s bed. “I don’t know what to get her.”

“An all-expenses-paid trip to the Bahamas,” Klaus suggested, without looking up from painting his nails.

“Klaus. Be serious.”

“A diamond tiara.”

“Klaus.”

“Two diamond tiaras? One for special occasions and one just to wear around the house.”

Ben sighed and slumped down into the pillows. Choosing a gift for Vanya wouldn’t be this difficult if he had his own money. But, since she was obviously going to know whatever he picked was paid for by someone else, it was going to have to be really, _really_ thoughtful to make up for it.

The worst part was that Ben was pretty sure his own gift was going to be perfect. Luther was his Secret Birthday Santa, judging by how he’d kept looking at him after they drew names, and he knew exactly what Ben wanted. He’d been dropping extremely unsubtle hints for several weeks, after all.

“I shouldn’t have even put my name in,” Ben mumbled into the pillow. “My present is going to be the worst one.”

Klaus set the jar of nail polish aside and raised an eyebrow. “You really think you’re going to do worse than Five? That is a bold claim, my friend.”

Ben raised his head and turned to look at him. “At least Five is going to get his person something on his own. What am I supposed to say? ‘Here, Klaus bought you this because I told him to?’ It seems so meaningless.”

“Why don’t you make her something, then?” Dave piped up. He was sorting the dry-clean-only garments out of Klaus’s dirty laundry, since Klaus kept ruining things by shoving it all into the washer.

“Are you going to make _me_ something, Davey-cakes?” asked Klaus, batting his eyelashes.

“Sure. How do you feel about macaroni necklaces?”

“I prefer penne.”

“Noted.” Dave turned back to Ben. “Really, though, homemade is always nicer than store-bought, I think.”

Ben flopped onto his back and considered it. “I’m not that good at arts and crafts. Oh, but—!“

He propped himself up on his elbows and looked to Klaus, struck by inspiration. “That old guy ghost knows how to do woodworking and stuff, doesn’t he? Where is he? I haven’t seen him in a few days.”

“Oh. He made a trip back to the motherland.” Klaus started in on painting his toenails. “Someone in his own family was born on October 2nd, but he couldn’t wait around for our party either way because Australia exists in the future. He said happy birthday to us all, though!”

Ben let out a long sigh. Why couldn’t he have drawn Klaus? He’d get him a copy of that painting of the dogs playing poker. He had always wanted to hang one of those up between the classical pieces in the sitting room and see how long it took for anybody to notice.

Klaus’s hand stilled over his pinkie toe and he frowned down at his foot. “Now that I think of it, he also said something about… the water heater? The microwave?” He waved in dismissal, flicking nail polish across the bedspread as he did so. “I don’t know, I’ll remember when whatever it was that needed to get fixed blows up.”

“It’s the dryer. And it’s already broken, so we’re a day late and a dollar short on that one, my love.” Dave tossed aside a truly rank pair of leather pants and redirected his attention to Ben. “Anyway, it’s the thought that counts. I don’t think Vanya’s that shallow.”

Ben stared up at the ceiling. He _knew_ Vanya wasn’t that shallow, but he wanted her to actually like what he got her, not just pretend that she did. It felt important.

“Well… maybe there’s one thing I can make.”

{}{}{}{}{}

Vanya closed the book on her finger, and tried to imagine handing Luther a pot of yellow tulips.

_‘These are for you,’_ she would say. _‘I got them because they mean ‘your smile is full of sunshine’ in flower language, and I thought it was appropriate. Happy Birthday, Luther.’_

She winced. Oh, God, no. She couldn’t even think it without wanting to melt into the floor.

She crossed her legs on the sofa and flipped the book back open. This had originally seemed like a great idea, picking out something for Luther to plant in his garden based on what the flowers symbolized.

One quick trip to the library later, and she was starting to wonder if maybe it would be better to just get him a tie. Flower meanings were either much too saccharine or a minefield of potential misunderstandings.

Take snapdragons, for instance. They could mean ‘strength,’ they were simple to care for, and they looked nice. Perfect.

But then they could also mean ‘deceitfulness.’ What if he decided to double-check the meaning on his own, and started wondering which one she’d really intended? She didn’t want him to think she was giving him a passive-aggressive flower.

Or the protea—odd-looking, but not quite ugly. Kind of a manly flower, she guessed? Among their many meanings were ‘change’ and ‘transformation,’ which he could interpret as a comment on how different things were now compared to a year ago.

Or as a comment on him turning into a human-ape hybrid.

She skimmed the entry for orchids. They were beautiful, high-maintenance, and symbolized ‘proud, glorious womanhood.’

If she gave one to Klaus, he would find their meaning hilarious. If she gave one to Luther, Diego would find their meaning hilarious.

Vanya gazed bleakly at her coffee table. Maybe she should give this up and call Allison to ask for pointers. Could he use a new watch?

{}{}{}{}{}

Allison did a quick scan of the perimeter to make sure nobody else was outside, then climbed into Diego’s front passenger seat.

She’d been hoping to draw Klaus’s name, because one of their favorite makeup brands had recently released a new eyeshadow palette that was _amazing,_ just gorgeous—but Christmas was right around the corner.

Diego wasn’t that hard to shop for, anyway. She had a pretty good idea of what to get him, right after she did a little reconnaissance to see what he already had.

He kept the rest of the car fastidiously tidy, but his glove box was a disaster. An avalanche of papers fell out as soon as she opened it, mostly receipts, but she counted at least three parking tickets.

She picked one up and checked the date. He knew if he racked up enough of them, the city would boot his car, right?

Well, that was a problem for another day. She had research to do.

He had a lot of first-aid supplies in there, band-aids and rolls of gauze, rubbing alcohol. A Cher cassette. A Robert Palmer cassette. A single sock, several half-empty bottles of sports drinks, a pack of cigarettes Klaus had probably left behind. A Donna Summer cassette.

He also had a truly alarming number of flashlights, Allison realized. Big ones, little ones, ones you could attach to your clothing. Flashlights for every occasion.

She reached far into the back and swept out the remaining items. A loose Bangles tape, another parking ticket, and, to her horror, a condom.

It had expired in 2016.

She grimaced and tossed it back into the glove box. That was enough research for the day. Enough research forever, really.

“What are you doing in my car?”

She started in the seat and turned to find Diego standing next to the open door with his arms crossed.

“I… was looking for a flashlight.” She fished around in the pile of papers to pull out a tiny red one. “I thought you might have one. Or twenty.”

Diego scowled at her, clearly not buying it.

“I’m going to the store,” he said. “Get out or come for the ride, your choice.”

“I’ll go with you,” Allison decided, shoving handfuls of junk back into the glove compartment. “What are we shopping for?”

“Dave says we need a new belt for the dryer.” His brow creased. “And Ben asked me to get him cinnamon sugar and a hammer.”

Allison paused. “Did he happen to tell you why?”

“I didn’t ask.” Diego fixed her with a pointed look. “I don’t snoop in other people’s business.”

Allison laughed and strapped on her seatbelt. “Says the guy who owns three separate police scanners.”

“I’m improving public safety,” he protested hotly. “I’m not just being nosy and digging through people’s stuff.”

“I know.” She leaned over and patted him on the arm. “Thank you for your service. I’ll throw you a ticker-tape parade when we get home.”

He swatted her hand away with a glare. “If you’re going to act like this, you can stay here.”

She laughed again. She’d never met another adult man who was so sensitive to friendly teasing. Sometimes it was annoying, but other times, it was just funny.

“Okay, okay, no more,” she promised. “I’ll treat you and your police scanners and your flashlight hoard with all the respect you deserve.”

“I don’t hoard flashlights,” he grumbled. “I need all those.”

He narrowed his eyes, apparently struck by a thought. “You can borrow one, but you have to give it back.”

She barely managed to resist sticking her tongue out at him. “Scout’s honor.”

Would it be mean to steal a few and hide them? Probably.

She was still going to do it.

{}{}{}{}{}

In Diego’s experience, the best way to clear his mind was with vigorous exercise. Get his blood pumping, get his endorphins flowing, get him totally out of his own head, and boom—mental clarity.

So he’d been working out like a madman for the past three days, to the point where his whole body felt like one big bruise.

He was no closer to figuring out what to get Five for his efforts. Plus, he was pretty sure he’d pulled something in his shoulder.

What the fuck did Five even like? Math. Vodka. Complaining about stuff.

That was it, that was the complete list.

Diego eased himself down into a seat at the kitchen table and arranged the bag of frozen peas over his sore shoulder.

He hadn’t wanted to take the easy way out and just give him a knife, because he was pretty sure he’d get only a smartass comment by way of thanks, but he was out of ideas.

Maybe he should hunt down whoever had gotten Klaus and make them swap. Then all he’d have to do was go to the nearest jewelry store and pick out the most sparkly bracelet in the joint. Guaranteed success.

Luther wandered in with a plastic shopping bag, and quickly hid it behind his back when he noticed Diego.

“Hey!” he said. “I didn’t know you were home.”

His gaze fell to the bag of frozen peas. “Did you hurt your shoulder?”

“No,” said Diego. “I just felt like wearing vegetables.”

Luther gave him a reproving look. “Want me to rub it for you?”

“Do you _think_ I want you to rub it?” Diego snapped.

“I… Maybe? That’s why I asked.”

Diego glared at him.

Luther approached cautiously and dropped the bag under the table.

“Uh… I’ll just start, and you’ll tell me if I’m hurting you?”

“Whatever,” Diego grumbled.

Luther came to stand behind him and began kneading gently at his shoulders.

It felt… not terrible.

“Who’d you get for the birthday thing?” asked Diego.

“Oh, I don’t think we’re supposed to tell anyone,” Luther said seriously. “It’s going to be a surprise.”

Diego rolled his eyes, though Luther couldn’t see it. “I got Five.” He paused. “He’s… hard to shop for.”

Luther sighed. “Maybe you should get him a trapper keeper,” he said. “After you went to work this afternoon I picked up these papers he left all over the dining room table, and now he’s not speaking to me because they had to be in a certain order.”

Diego wanted to say something smart-alecky, but then Luther applied a little more pressure and dug into a knot, and he let out a grunt instead.

Yeah, okay. Getting a shoulder rub from someone with super strength was pretty alright.

“I just don’t like clutter,” Luther went on. “I keep trying to tell him I didn’t mean to mess his stuff up, but he poofs out of the room as soon as he sees me.”

Diego made a non-committal noise. Luther was working under his shoulder blades now. He hadn’t realized how tight he was back there until this very moment.

“So I asked Klaus to tell him I’m sorry, but I guess Klaus dropped a cigarette on his bed and burned a hole in the cover, and now he’s mad at both of us.”

Fuuuck, he was loosening up knots Diego had thought were just part of his muscles.

Luther’s voice turned speculative. “Maybe that’s what you can get him. A new bedspread.”

He was not getting him a bedspread. That would be a very obvious ‘I didn’t know what to get you’ present.

Before he could tell Luther that, he pressed into the sore spot on his bad shoulder and held his thumb there for a few moments, and _wow,_ he couldn’t even pretend to be in a bad mood anymore.

Christ, Luther could just do this for whoever he had drawn, and it would be the best present out of all of them. He could make them like, a coupon book for backrubs. That was a thing people did, wasn’t it?

…Wait.

Luther withdrew his hands and took a step back. “Okay. How’s that?”

Fucking amazing.

“Okay, I guess.”

Diego rubbed at a spot on his neck and winced, even though it didn’t hurt.

“Oh, is it sore there, too?” Luther ran a hand over it. “What happened? Did you get hurt doing your vigilante thing?”

He was pretty sure he’d pulled his shoulder skipping rope, actually.

“…Yes.”

{}{}{}{}{}

Things Allison Likes:

  * Fashion
  * The color blue
  * The color pink
  * Most other colors
  * Jelly donuts

Five tapped his pen on the pad of paper and frowned down at it. This was hard.

Allison wasn’t a terribly difficult person to please, but most of the things she liked were, in his opinion, frivolous.

Five did not do frivolous.

A good gift should be something useful. After all, what better way to show someone you cared than to give them something that would make their life a little easier?

The trouble was, Allison’s life in L.A. was one big blank. Did she need a new coffee pot? New car tires? Did she have a lawn service? Could her garage use a fresh coat of paint? There was no telling.

He sighed through his nose. This would be so much simpler if he was assigned Klaus. He could just get him a carton of cigarettes and call it good.

Five picked up his coffee cup and wandered over to the library’s window. It was the first nippy day of the fall, and the leaves were beginning to change colors, he noted.

Did Allison have a winter coat? Los Angeles didn’t get all that cold. Ah, she’d probably prefer to choose one herself, though. He knew little and cared less about brands.

But… hm. She did travel a lot, and he knew from personal experience how tiresome that got. The discombobulation, the change in time zones, all the stupid little details you had to keep track of. He didn’t plan to take another trip as long as he lived.

There had to be something there he could help with. Some small inconvenience he could alleviate for her.

He sipped his coffee and mulled it over.

Yes. Yes, there was something.

He drained his mug and zapped himself downstairs to Pogo’s empty office. He had a phone call to make.

{}{}{}{}{}

Vanya hit the doorbell with her elbow and waited. She had Luther’s gift in one arm, and a bag full of board games in the other.

The games were not her idea. She really doubted they would even play them. But she’d told her friend Katie from her pool team about their communal birthday party, and she’d gotten so excited and insisted that she borrow some, and… well, who was Vanya to rain on her parade? Nobody, not when Katie was smiling at her like that.

Luther opened the door.

“Hey,” he said. “Happy Birthday.”

“You too.” She shuffled her feet a bit and hefted the plant up at him. “Uh. Well, I couldn’t really wrap this, and now you’ve seen it, so… here you go, I guess.”

“Oh!” He took it from her, fingering one of the leaves gently. “A basil plant. You know, I had one of these, but it died. I think I over-watered it.”

Vanya smiled at him awkwardly. The guy at the store had said basil plants were extremely easy to care for.

“Maybe you’ll have better luck with this one.”

“Maybe,” he agreed. “I like it. Thank you.”

“Yeah.” She cleared her throat. “They, uh. They mean ‘good wishes.’ I read that somewhere. I think.”

“Yeah?” His face broke out into a pleased smile, and she reflected that the yellow tulips would have been a good choice after all. “That’s—really nice. Thanks, Vanya.”

“Sure. Happy Birthday.”

Luther took off to put the basil plant in the greenhouse, and Vanya continued into the kitchen. Ben was there, putting the finishing touches on the cake.

“It looks great, Ben,” she said.

He glanced up, and his face fell when he saw her.

“Hi, Vanya. Thanks.” He bit his lip. “Uh… so, don’t be mad, but, I got you for the Secret Santa thing, and… I kind of fucked up your present.”

She blinked. “Oh. Well, that’s okay. I’m not mad.”

Her reassurance did nothing to ease the distress on his face. “I’ll get you something better,” he promised. “Just tell me what you want. It—I just thought this was going to be pretty good, but it didn’t turn out how it was supposed to, and… Sorry.”

“Did you make me something?” she asked.

He cringed. “I tried to.”

“Can I see it?”

“Oh. You really don’t want to, believe me.”

She took a step towards him, curious. “Please?”

“Well…” Ben wrung his hands, looking so much like a housewife who felt guilty for burning the roast that she wanted to laugh.

He took in a deep breath and started talking fast.

“I was going to make you snickerdoodles because I know they’re your favorite, and I thought I could make them shaped like music notes but then I couldn’t find any music note cookie cutters, so I took regular cookie cutters and tried to reshape them with a hammer and some pliers, and I thought they looked okay but then I put them in the oven and_ this_ happened.”

He grabbed a plate off the counter and thrust it at her. The cookies on it did not in any way resemble musical notes.

He prodded at a particularly blobby one. “This was supposed to be a G-clef,” he said sadly.

It looked more like a tumor.

Vanya studied them. These cookies were the product of a lot of time and effort and consideration, she realized. If the end result wasn’t all that great, well… who cared?

She looked up and met his worried gaze.

“I love them,” she said, with feeling.

He hunched his shoulders, looking bashful. “You’re just trying to be nice,” he mumbled.

“No, I mean it. I really love them.”

She plucked one off the plate and took a bite. It tasted like a normal snickerdoodle, to her relief.

“Thank you, Ben.” She licked crumbs off her upper lip. “They’re perfect.”

He rolled his eyes, but couldn’t hide his smile. “You’re crazy,” he said. “Happy Birthday.”

At the other end of the house, Diego stalked into the library and tossed Five’s gift onto the table.

“Here,” he said. “I couldn’t give you this in front of everybody else.”

Five deliberately took his time closing his book and fixed Diego with a cool look. He was little busy, if he hadn’t noticed.

He peered over at whatever Diego had just thrown at him. It was some kind of handmade card or pamphlet from the looks of it, stapled together on one side with the words ‘Happy Birthday’ written on the front in Diego’s neat, blocky script.

He picked it up and looked inside.

_‘I will tell Luther I need him to help me move things at the gym,’_ the first page read.

Five frowned.

_‘I will take Klaus to an amusement park.’_

What in the fuck?

He flipped through the rest of it. Each page—and there were quite a few—had more of the same bizarre declarations.

He waved it in the air. “What the hell is this?”

Diego crossed his arms with a scowl. His ears were turning pink. “A coupon book,” he grunted. “Of ways I can get Luther and Klaus out of the house for a while.”

“Oh.” Five stared at it thoughtfully. “Can I combine coupons?”

“Definitely not.”

“Is there a time guarantee?”

“No. How would I enforce that? Holding them at gunpoint?”

“What’s your refund policy? In case they refuse to go with you.”

Diego let out an exasperated huff, his face now suffused with color. “You know what, forget it, I was trying to do you a favor and if you’re going to be sarcastic about it—“

Five snatched the booklet away and held it to his chest before Diego could grab it.

He leveled him with a dangerous look. “You gave it to me, and it’s too late to take it back now.”

Diego inched away, his expression wary.

“This is a good gift,” Five informed him. “Thank you.”

“Oh.” His posture relaxed by degrees. “Uh, you’re welcome.”

Five gave him a gracious nod. “Now. I still have things to work on before dinner, so get lost.”

Diego blinked. “You just have like, no manners whatsoever, do you?”

“Not with family,” Five confirmed, already opening his book back up. “Happy Birthday. Don’t let the door hit you.”

Diego left, mumbling under his breath. Five smiled into his book.

Dinner went okay. Allison had to intervene before Luther and Diego could get into a yelling match about how much to tip the pizza delivery guy, and at one point Klaus went into a sulk after Ben stopped him from eating one of Vanya’s cookies, but it was more or less peaceful.

Finally, when they were all just picking at their food and Mom was wrapping up the leftovers, Allison clapped her hands together.

“Should we do presents?”

“I already gave mine,” said Diego.

“Me too,” said Vanya.

“She got me a new basil plant,” Luther informed the table at large.

“So you can water board another one into an early grave?” Five asked.

Klaus kissed his fingers and raised them to the ceiling. “Rest in peace, Old Basil Plant.”

Allison clapped her hands again, a bit more forcefully. “Presents!”

Once they had everything assembled, she passed a brightly-wrapped box down the table to Diego.

“For you,” she said cheerfully, then watched in anticipation as he opened it.

“80’s Dance Hits Box Set.” He glanced up at her sharply. “What is this, a gag gift?”

She considered it. It might have been better to give it to him in private. Or just have left it on the seat of his car.

“Yes,” she decided.

“Oh.” He appeared mollified. “It’s funny. Thanks.”

Not the reaction she’d been hoping for, but she understood. The macho kayfabe was important.

“I also paid off your parking tickets,” she said. “You know they’re not just a suggestion, right?”

He frowned. “I was contesting one of them.”

“What about the other seven?”

He gave her a look that could have killed a lesser mortal, but as they moved on, he was checking the track listings on the back of box. Yeah, she’d be finding those tapes in his car soon enough.

Luther was turning a card over in his hands. “Your real present won’t be ready until next week,” he told Ben.

Ben smiled in bemusement. “Okay.”

“This is a placeholder. It… Well, here.” He slid the card across the table. It was a photograph, Allison realized, although she couldn’t tell of what.

Ben picked it up and went very still.

“I was only going to get one, but the people there wanted to keep them together,” Luther was saying. “We can pick them up next Tuesday. I got all the stuff we need already.”

Ben didn’t respond.

Luther cleared his throat, looking a little unnerved by his silence. “Uh. I guess maybe I should have let you pick for yourself? I just thought it’d be better if it was a surprise. That was… sort of dumb, looking back.”

Ben looked up with an unreadable expression. “I thought you were going to get me the _Lord of the Rings_ movies,” he said, sounding dazed. “I kept hinting that’s what I wanted.”

Luther looked crushed. “You were? I… I’m really sorry, Ben, I thought you just wanted to rent them. Um. I can still get them for you? Tomorrow?”

“No! No, it’s fine.”

Allison noted with some alarm that Ben’s eyes were growing wet. Jesus, he’d really had his heart set on those movies, hadn’t he? Or else he was hurt that Luther hadn’t been paying closer attention.

“This is better,” he said. “So much better. I… It’s the perfect thing, and I love them so much, and—”

He let out a wheezy breath. “_Thank you.”_

“What is it?” Klaus asked, craning around Dave to see the photo.

Ben held it aloft to let them all see.

Allison gasped. “Kittens!”

A tiny black fuzzball with its tongue sticking out, and a gray and white tabby that looked startled at the camera flash.

“They’re a girl and a boy,” Luther said, pointing them out. “The people at the shelter think the mother cat died. We can take them home once they’re eight weeks old.”

“Lucky us,” muttered Five, eyeing the picture with clear displeasure.

Klaus tapped his finger on the black cat. “Can we name this one Klaus Junior?”

“That’s the girl,” Ben told him, unable to tear his eyes away. “And I’m not naming one of my cats after you.”

“The cat does not care about gender conformity,” Klaus said self-righteously. “How about Klaus Two: Electric Boogaloo?”

Dave took his hands in his own and pressed a kiss to the back of his knuckles. “How about we let Ben decide, sweetheart?”

That was going to be a tough act to follow, but Five seemed undaunted.

He handed Allison a sheet of paper with a fax number at the top.

“Here,” he said. “You’re welcome.”

It was from Los Angeles International Airport, and it gave step-by-step directions on getting to some random kiosk near one of the parking garages.

“Okay, I give up,” she said after a moment of confusion. “What is it?”

“I got you a yearly parking permit for L.A.X.”

A baffled silence settled over the table.

Klaus elbowed Ben. “See?” he muttered. “What did I tell you?”

“This way, you don’t have to worry about having enough cash on you to pay for parking when you leave,” Five told her. “You can just get in your car and go.”

He smiled at her, full of pride.

Diego was staring at him with a perplexed frown and Dave was covering his mouth with his hand in an attempt to smother laughter, but Five ignored them, looking utterly pleased with himself.

It was… a very _him_ gift. Not frilly or pretty or lavender-scented, but undeniably useful. It was thoughtful, in a utilitarian way.

“Thank you,” she said sincerely. “This is… helpful.”

“I know,” he told her.

Klaus cleared his throat.

“Well, if anyone was wondering, I bought myself a ring with a secret compartment in it—for either poison or Pixie Stix dust, dealer’s choice—and these fabulous shoes.”

He swung his foot up onto the table to show them off.

“Wait,” said Diego, “did you draw your own name?”

“Yes, sir!”

“Why didn’t you say anything?” asked Allison. “We could have gone again.”

He shrugged. “If I’d done that, would I have gotten these shoes and a secret candy ring, or would I have gotten monogrammed socks and a lecture on why taking _other_ people’s socks is wrong?”

“I wouldn’t have done that, I just want you to stop stealing my socks,” Luther mumbled.

“Whatever you say. Want to see my ring? It’s awesome. And full of candy! Or poison, I forget which.”

Dave followed him out of the room and up the stairs.

“You see?” he said, bumping their arms together. “What’d I say? Nobody would have forgotten to get you a present.”

Klaus sighed as they reached his bedroom. “Spare me the ‘I told you so’ thing? It’s my birthday, you know.”

He grabbed the ring off his nightstand and toyed with it. “And anyway,” he added petulantly. “I’m still waiting for my penne necklace.”

Dave hummed. “I decided to go in another direction. Look under your pillow.”

Klaus slid his hand under it and pulled out an envelope.

It was plain white and so was the letter inside, written by hand in blue ink.

Klaus read it, then re-read it, and then read it for a third time. It began with a list of all the things Dave liked about him, described the moments he had replayed over and over in his mind during their long separation. He admitted that the wait had been hard sometimes, but claimed he would do it over again if he had to. For twice as long, or even ten times. He could wait a million years, he wrote, because the prize at the end would always be worth it.

It was hardly poetry—Dave was hardly a poet—but Klaus found he didn’t much care. Nobody had ever written him a love letter before.

He looked up with glistening eyes. “Oh, Davey,” he whispered.

Dave dropped a kiss on his forehead. “Happy Birthday, sweetheart.”

“You’re a huge sap,” Klaus told him with a quivering smile. “Your blood is made of maple syrup.”

Dave peered down at the hole in his chest. “Is that what this is? That’s a relief.”

“Gross!” Klaus laughed, punching him in the arm.

“’Gross?’ You’re not one of those people who puts jelly on their pancakes, are you?”

“Shut up, you goof.” He got up on his knees on the bed and pulled Dave closer. “Let’s just stay here for a minute. Okay?”

Dave wrapped his arms around him and hummed into his hair. “Whatever you want, birthday boy.”

**Author's Note:**

> Does anybody have ideas on what to name Ben's cats? I've been banned from naming pets ever since I suggested calling our childhood dog John. That dog totally looked like a John, tho.


End file.
